My Brother's Wife

Politically, I'm not necessarily a liberal on all issues, but I had long been an advocate for causes I felt strongly about, and some of those causes were liberal. It seemed pretty obvious to me that my crime wasn't so much killing my brother as opposing the things he'd supposedly stood for.

Although the state wanted me remanded without bail, the judge at arraignment relented and set my bond at $500,000. It took three months for Cindy to raise the $50,000 it took to get me out of jail, but it was money well spent.

To this day, I have trouble seeing how experienced investigators could have looked at the scene in my bedroom and come to any conclusion other than self-defense. I wasn't dealing with city detectives, however, but county dicks, and they bought into what Gordon's buddies told them.

Apparently, Gordon had told several of his friends that I had asked him to come out that night, and he had told them that we were going to settle our differences.

All of that was patently false, and was proven patently false in court. But it was enough to convince the sheriff and the district attorney, who was up for reelection in just a few weeks, that I was this rebellious black-sheep brother who had set Gordon up for a fatal fall.

The prosecutors also made much of the fact that Cindy and I had hooked up two days after the divorce was final, insinuating that we'd been having an affair all along. But no one could produce any evidence proving we'd had sex prior to the night of the shooting.

Of course, my purchase of the pistol, and my subsequent target practice was a big element in their case. But I never wavered from my contention that I was in fear for my life and that living in the country like I did, it was a good practice to be proficient with a firearm.

At first, the state offered me a deal: five to 10 years for pleading to first-degree manslaughter. I laughed at them and told them I wasn't guilty of anything.

However, there was more bravado than confidence there. I knew what the powers in this state were capable of, and I knew they could marshal a lot of resources to bear against me. And, once I rejected their plea offer, they were adamant about trying me for first-degree murder.

But I have a lot of friends, and they pitched in to help pay for Suzanne Jaworski, the best criminal defense attorney in the state. Gloria Miller, my old friend who had helped Cindy in her divorce, also joined my defense team pro bono.

I also got plenty of grass-roots support from across the country, friends I'd made in the music business, friends I'd made in the course of making instruments and others who were just outraged at what they saw as an unjust prosecution.

And from the beginning, I had support from the media, especially the city's daily newspaper, which called my prosecution, "a politically-motivated vendetta."

I was indeed fortunate in having good lawyers, because the state had somehow put together a lot of supposition, innuendo and wisps of facts to make a fairly convincing circumstantial case, if you were already inclined to think poorly of me.

But Suzanne and Gloria took each piece of evidence, each little issue the state brought forward against me and picked their case apart, piece by piece. Plus, they brought in their own crime-scene experts who testified that everything was laid out just like I had said to the investigators that night.

Especially damning were the photos I'd taken of Cindy the night she fled Gordon and the evidence I'd amassed of his extracurricular activities. They painted the picture of Gordon we wanted the jury to see, that of an unstable hypocrite who was fully capable of breaking into my home and attacking me.

We took a big gamble when I decided to take the stand in my own defense. Suzanne said it was a risk because it opened me up to an aggressive cross-examination, but I argued that if I didn't believe in myself, how could I expect 12 strangers to believe in me?

There were a few times when the prosecution's grilling got me a little agitated, but for the most part I kept my cool, told my story and I never deviated from it. They never caught me in a lie, because I knew I had the truth on my side.

When it came time for closing statements, Suzanne spoke matter-of-factly. She took each issue the state had brought out in support of first-degree murder and reduced each one to ashes, at least in my opinion.

The assistant DA who had prosecuted the case, on the other hand, went through all sorts of histrionics. He railed at the jury that I was insanely jealous of Gordon's success, that I had coveted his wife and had staged her injuries, and that I had lured my brother to my home on the pretext of reconciling, then shot him dead.

Never mind the baseball bat that Gordon had clutched in his hand when he died, which the prosecution absurdly suggested he'd brought with him because he was afraid of me.

Our character witnesses had pretty much demolished that argument by trotting out a parade of old school acquaintances who said that it was Gordon who had terrorized me through the years, not the other way around.

So I stood there, confident that we had done the best we could, but still apprehensive about the verdict. The jury had been out a day and a half, which we couldn't get a read on. They hadn't come to a speedy conclusion, but they hadn't belabored the deliberations, either.

As the foreperson began to read the verdict, I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering if I would be allowed to get on with my life, with the woman I loved, or if I would spend the rest of my life in prison.

"We, the people, find the defendant, Scott Luke, not guilty," the woman said.

At first, I couldn't quite grasp that she'd actually said the two words that gave me my life back. Then I heard the courtroom erupt in absolute chaos, and for a moment I thought a riot was going to break out.

Gordon had had passionate defenders among the gallery, but I'd had my share as well, and there was some concern that Gordon's partisans would attack my supporters and a full-scale brawl would break out.

In the midst of the bedlam, I turned to Cindy and we hugged each other with the passion of two people who'd just been liberated.

We'd lived apart in the interim, but we'd spent a good bit of time together and we had become comfortable with each other in every way. We truly were in love, and the fact that she and the girls supported me was a huge mark in my favor.

It had been a long, stressful ordeal, but now we were free to marry, which is what she wanted, and I was free to adopt Sarah and Mary, which I wanted.

I turned to look for my mother and my sister, but they looked away without speaking and walked out. I figured I'd lost them forever, but that was fine with me. They'd never had much use for me, so I wasn't going to lose sleep over their feelings.

Later, at a press conference arranged by my lawyers, several members of the jury spoke out forcefully about the weakness of the state's case. One juror even said he couldn't believe the case had ever gone to the grand jury in the first place.

And the jury forewoman, who had looked at me so sternly throughout the trial, spoke of the thing that turned the case for her. Smiling broadly, she credited Cindy's daughters.

"When they spoke up for Mr. Scott," she said. "That told me all I needed to know about his character. Children will tell the truth, if you just leave them alone. And those girls spoke the truth when they called Scott Luke their real daddy."

Suzanne and Gloria took us to dinner that night at a downtown restaurant, and it turned into a victory party, as many of my friends and supporters came out to congratulate me. It was gratifying, but still, I felt a little hollow.

I could finally go home, but my life was still a shambles. I'd managed to keep my home, but I'd had to sell many of my tools to help raise money for my defense. Plus, I rented a small studio apartment to stay in the city while I was on trial, which ate up much of what savings I'd had.

Of course, I hadn't able to work much during the year and a half that it took for the case to go through the system. As a result, my business had collapsed, so at that moment my only source of income was performing, and I wasn't good enough to make a living by singing and playing bluegrass music.

Even though I was a free man, the trial had cost me plenty, but I still had the love of Cindy and her daughters.

The girls had stayed with Cindy's other sister, the one that lives in the city, during the last days of the trial, so Cindy's house was empty as we arrived after the party broke up. She invited me in and fixed a pot of coffee, because she could see that I was restless.

We sat together on her sofa, sipping coffee in silence. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do, but Cindy beat me to it. She finished her cup, set it aside, leaned over and pulled me to her. She kissed me softly at first, but with mounting passion.

At that moment, I was consumed by a wild lust that needed release. I had been so stressed over the outcome of my trial that I'd suffered from some impotence in the preceding weeks. Cindy and I hadn't been together sexually in several months, and I'd not even had the desire – or ability – to masturbate, had I been so inclined.

I kissed her back, hard, letting my tongue joust with hers as we wrestled on the couch. Now that I was free, I could feel the life surging back to my groin, reviving my virility. Finally, after several minutes of furious necking, Cindy pulled away, then stood up.

"Relax, lie back and enjoy," she said. "This is for you."

With that she reached and unpinned her hair, which fell about her shoulders in auburn waves. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, tossed it aside, then undid her slacks and let them fall to the floor.

I just drank in the lovely sight in front of me, her tall, slender frame clad in only a matching blue bra and panty set. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, tossed it to the side, then shimmied out of her panties.

Cindy was swaying lustfully as she stood in front of me naked. I stared at her beautiful breasts, sitting high and proud on her chest, the flat stomach, the wondrous butt, the long legs and the rust-colored patch of hair that framed her sex.

I was hard as steel, harder than I could ever remember, even that first fateful night at my cabin. She knelt then, between my legs, reached up and began to slowly unbutton my shirt. She raked her long fingernails over my chest and lightly pinched my nipples.

She went for my shoes next, and then my socks, before reaching up to unbuckle my belt and undo my pants. She pulled my boxers off with my slacks, and my cock bounced up, hard and ready. I lay back naked, ready to let this woman do anything she wanted with me.

"Mmmmmm, that looks nice," she cooed as she hefted my cock in both hands.

"That feels nice," I answered softly. "God, it feels so good to be with you without a cloud hanging over us."

"Shhhhhhh," Cindy admonished me. "I don't want to talk about anything right now. I just want to love you. We can talk later."

Cindy put her face right up close to my cock, sort of running her nose up and down the shaft, inhaling my essence. Her tongue quickly followed, sliding up the underside of my cock and ending with a big swipe at the ball of pre-cum that boiled out the tip.

She swirled her tongue around the head a couple of times then opened her mouth and sucked me in. She wrapped her lips around the shaft of my pole and took all but a couple of inches into her maw. She was humming with satisfaction as she worked her mouth up and down on my purple boner.

I could feel a cumload of massive proportions building steam, and I could tell that Cindy was sitting on a powder keg herself, from the way she was strumming her clit with one hand while the other held my cock.

I made myself a mental note that I was going to get a good taste of that juicy snatch before the night was over, but right then all we were interested in was physical closeness.

It's a measure of just how in-tune Cindy and I were, because at that very moment, she pulled her mouth off my cock. I got a thudding jolt in my gut as I saw the thick strands of saliva and pre-cum that lingered, moments after she released my cock from her lips.

Cindy just stared at me with a hot look on her face as she climbed back on the sofa, straddled my hips and eased her hot, swampy pussy onto my dick. When she had the head of my cock firmly in the grip of her opening, she let go of my dick and sank down onto me.

We both groaned heavily as her hot walls enveloped me. Cindy gripped my shoulders with both hands while I wrapped my arms around her back and drew her to me. As she worked her hips up and down on my throbbing dick, we kissed hard, our lips and tongues battling furiously.

I had fucked her quite a few times in the interim, but this was just extra-special. We were free, completely, free to be together without having to worry about Gordon, without having to worry about the possibility of prison.

I might have been content to kiss Cindy's luscious lips forever, but I had something else I wanted to get my lips on. I pulled her up just a bit, so that her tits were dangling over my mouth, and I suckled her nipples, licking, kissing, nibbling on her hard pink tips.

Cindy gave out a contented moan, and her movements began to pick up as I worked my hands and mouth on her hand-sized tits. Her eyes were closed as she let the feelings wash over her, the feelings of love, lust and devotion.

Little gasps escaped her mouth as her climax came to a head, which meant she was really feeling it, because she's not very vocal during sex. When she approaches a climax, her body is what makes the noise, and she was shaking and thrashing as she rode me hard.

"Mmmmm, yeah!" she cried. "Please, Scott, come with me. Let it go for me, let me feel your cum in me."

And I was ready to give her what she wanted, as I worked my hips up hard, driving my cock deep into her twitching cunt. Just about the time Cindy jerked hard and her body convulsed in climax, I felt the hard crackle of cum boiling out of my scrotum.

With a sharp gasping cry, I held Cindy tight as I erupted in a volcano of hot, thick semen. I let a fountain of cum bathe her womb, filling her with so much hot cream that it flowed out of her cunt and over my balls.

We kissed wildly then, and in the midst of our passion, I couldn't hold back. I started sobbing then, finally releasing all of the emotions I'd held in check for so long.

I had killed a man – my own brother – and had faced a life in captivity as a result. While I knew I was in the right, that I had defended myself and my lover, as any man would have, it was still a hard thing to accept.

Plus, I was so in love with Cindy, the woman I'd wanted for so long. I'd waited patiently all those years, doing the right thing by keeping my hands off of her, in spite of my feelings. I'd finally gotten her, then I'd had to face the possibility that I might still have to live my life without her, had I been convicted.

Cindy just held me as I let it all out, tenderly kissing my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, everywhere my tears were falling.

"I'm sorry," I said softly after I'd finally composed myself. "I guess I just needed to let some things out."

"Don't be sorry for crying," Cindy said. "That's one of the things I love about you, that you're not afraid to cry. I've worried about you these past few months because you were so ... quiet, so bottled up. I've been waiting for you to open up and let it out like that."

"Honey, I needed to hold it in, because I knew that if I was convicted, that kind of emotionalism would get me in trouble in prison," I said. "When I was in jail, before I bonded out, I saw what they did to the whiners, the snivelers. It wasn't pretty. You've got to at least appear strong in jail, because they'll exploit any sign of weakness."

"But they left you alone, didn't they?" Cindy said.

"That's because they knew what I'd done, and what I did earned me some respect from them," I said. "Jailhouse justice is a funny thing. I killed a man who had attacked me and the woman I loved, and in jail that's something they respect. But I also made sure I didn't show any fear, regardless of how afraid I really was, and I made it a point to be friendly with the baddest dude in the place."

We sat there quietly, then I suggested we get a shower. We stepped in under the warm spray and just held each other, letting the soothing water ease our tension. We had it just warm enough to be comfortable, because we wanted to make the hot water last.

The thick, wet strands of Cindy's hair fell about her face and shoulders, giving her gorgeous eyes that much more life as I kissed my way down her neck, to her breasts. I sucked each of her nipples, feeling them respond to me.

At the same time, I sawed a couple of fingers between her legs, while rolling my thumb over her hard clit. Cindy gasped softly as I slid two fingers into her pussy, and I got a jolt myself from the slimy feeling of my cum that was still coating her inner lining.

As I worked on Cindy with one hand, my other hand began to lightly stroke my cock, getting it back up to full roar. But I wasn't ready to use it just yet.

I knelt on the floor of the bathtub, in front of Cindy, and pressed my face to her crotch. She obliged me by opening her legs and propping one foot on the side of the tub. I just stared at her pretty pink pussy, framed by her dripping wet bush.

I took a big swipe with my tongue over the outside of her labia, then circled her clit with the tip. She gasped again, louder this time, and I knew I was on the right track. I wrapped both hands around her butt and pulled her to me, working my lips and tongue furiously on her cunt.

Cindy's hands gripped the back of my head as I gave every bit of oral expertise I'd accumulated over the years. Her hips were jerking in rhythm as I speared her depths with my tongue and sucked her with my lips. Little mewling sounds escaped her lips as I sucked, licked, even chewed lightly on her boiling-hot pussy.

She was right there, and I knew what would send her tumbling over the edge. I pulled my face away from her and turned her around, so that she was facing the wall opposite the shower spigot.

I leaned her over so that her butt was sticking out, with her hot pink pussy and her asshole exposed to me. I reached up and spread her butt cheeks then dove in with supreme relish. I slashed a wet path from her anus to her pussy and back again.

I opened her ass with my tongue and plunged it past her tight ring, then slid my mouth down and vacuumed her pussy. I varied my attack, so she never was sure when I was going to work her pussy and when I was going to lave her ass.

Looking up, I saw that Cindy was leaning with her head against the wall, her eyes shut tight as her climax reached its peak.

Right on cue, she stiffened and moaned, "Ohhhhhhhhh! Scott!"

Then her body shook hard with her orgasm. I gave her just enough time for her body to calm down, then I stood up on shaky legs. My cock was like an iron bar as I gripped it hard with one hand, and used the other hand to steady myself as I slid right up her flooded canal in one hard thrust.

The warm water cascaded over us as I quickly hit ramming speed, fucking my lover from behind with everything I had. And Cindy was working her hips back on me with every bit as much ardor as I was coming at her.

If this coupling lacked the intensity of earlier, it was more than offset by the sheer joy we were feeling at that moment. I was happily fucking the love of my life under a rapidly cooling stream of water, without a care in the world.

When the last of the hot water ran out, I pulled out of Cindy's pussy, reached around and shut the water off, then we scrambled out of the tub.